


Where You Lay Your Head

by Ninnani



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, and lance is gorgeous, but just the slightest sprinking of angst, get some glasses, i stg i have 5 cavities, just.... the fluffiest fluff, like you gotta squint to see the angst, shiro is in love, shiro is so fucking in love, so nothing new tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninnani/pseuds/Ninnani
Summary: Five times Shiro was up while Lance was sleeping, and the one time he finally got some sleep.orThe one where Shiro doesn't sleep, until he does, and he and Lance share tender moments that put his mind at ease in the spaces in between.





	Where You Lay Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> this little monster started as a tumblr prompt and now it's a little over 1k and i have the chapters all planned out and i've already started writing the next one. right now, though, i'm bogged down with big bangs and zines so i'll be updating sporadically
> 
> this is a comfort fic, i work on it to feel better. but i will continue it.

There were several pros and cons to having a robotic arm.

Admittedly there were significantly less pros, by virtue that it wasn’t his arm that gripped the controls of his lion. It wasn’t his arm that brought the mug of coffee or the spoonful of food goo to his lips. It wasn’t his arm. It was a foreign object, attached to his shoulder, forced onto him by an alien race that had conquered and enslaved the entire known universe.

So yeah, definitely more cons. But sometimes, when he was feeling more optimistic, Shiro could find a few pros to having the arm.

One pro specifically, was that it didn’t get tired. It didn’t strain or falter or cramp up if he held it in one position for too long. It made doing certain things much easier.

Like now, laying in his bed with Lance pressed up along his front, his head pillowed in the crook of the robotic arm, Shiro didn’t have to worry about it falling asleep. He could just lay there, hanging in the space between waking and dreaming, his nose buried in the nape of Lance’s neck, breathing in deep the smell of Altean body wash and something warm and so very much Lance.

It settled something wild in his chest, made his breathing a little easier. It kept the flashes of purple and pink at bay, and Shiro could close his eyes and dream of home. Because that’s what Lance was; he was home for everyone on the ship, but for Shiro specifically.

Lance smelled like home, like sun-kissed skin and a summer sky, and Shiro wanted to bury himself in it.

The arm made it easier. He didn’t have to move or shift. He could lay like this with Lance for hours just basking in his warmth, tapping out the seconds between each steady breath on his stomach. He could run his hand up and down Lance’s sides, trace the line of his hip, palm the slope of his shoulder, toy with the ends of his hair. He could take advantage of the quiet, the calm before the next inevitable storm, to take stock of all the small, minute changes in Lance’s body since the last time they had been together like this.

There was a new scar on his shoulder—a nasty burn from blaster fire he’d taken for Hunk a week ago. God. Shiro remembered the smell of burning skin and rubber. Lance’s face, teeth gritted in pain but his bayard held steady and strong, still fighting.

Shiro pressed his lips to the puckered skin. Lance shifted, but he didn’t wake.

His hair had grown longer over the last few months. It flared out over the tops of his ears, awkward and endearing, but not long enough to cover them completely. Shiro reached up and tucked the hair back behind the shell of Lance’s ear.

Lance’s breath hitched at the touch and he shivered in his sleep, shifting back and pressing himself flush against Shiro’s chest. He rolled his head back, chasing the feeling of Shiro’s fingers, exposing the dark column of his neck. A soft moan sounded from the back of his throat, barely more than a heavy breath, but it made Shiro’s heart clench painfully in his chest.

He would never get over how tactile and constant Lance was. How, even in his sleep, Lance reached for him, gravitated towards him. How he made sure to leave no room between them for insecurities or doubts or bad dreams. Lance made sure to surround him on all sides.

Even in his sleep.

Shiro let himself linger in Lance’s hair, rolling the soft, silky strands between his fingertips, brushing it back, away from Lance’s forehead with the flat of his palm. He spread his fingers and let it filter between them, watching it flutter and fall back across his forehead. Then he brushed it back again, hyper aware of the feather softness of it on his skin. It tickled the inside of his wrist, the goosebumps leading the sensations up his arm.

Yeah. This was definitely a pro in Shiro’s opinion.

While the Galra arm couldn’t feel the weight of Lance laying on it, warming the metal with his bare skin, Shiro’s arm -his _human_ arm- was free to make up for lost time. It was in moments like this, where he could focus and bask in the feeling of Lance under his hands, where he remembered that he still could feel the softness of things.

Here, in the darkness of his room, following the line of Lance’s throat with the tip of his nose, getting himself drunk on the smell of his skin, Shiro could convince himself that he deserved it. Things like this -soft, good things- still existed beyond the thick fabric of the paladin armor, beyond the reach of the Galra arm.

Feelings and sensations that were more than just the pressure Lance’s hand or the vague idea of heat when he stood by his side, they were here, in these moments. And he was allowed to bask in them. 

Shiro pressed a kiss to the juncture of Lance’s neck and another to the corner of his jaw. He nipped at the skin there, feather light, careful not to wake him, and letting his tongue dart out to taste his skin.

Lance stirred, arching up into Shiro’s mouth. He sighed like a song, content and deep in his chest. Shiro took Lance’s earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently, dragging it out into a moan.

“Shiro,” Lance groaned, stringing along the ‘o’, his voice thick with sleep.

“Sorry,” Shiro breathed. He winced at the sound of his voice, thin and breathless, like he’d just finished fighting the Gladiator in the training deck. Jesus. “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lance turned to look up at him, blinking sleep from his eyes. His hair was mussed, bangs sticking up where Shiro ran his fingers through them. His cheeks were flushed and, Shiro noticed with a small twinge of satisfaction, Lance was breathing just as hard as he was.

“You didn’t mean to?” He wrinkled his nose and yawned, stretching and turning in Shiro’s arms, slow and calculated, dragging his entire body along Shiro’s front, “Well, that’s disappointing.”

Shiro blinked, still struggling to catch his breath, “Is it?”

Lance’s eyes flickered down to Shiro’s lips and back up, pupils blown wide, “Uh-huh.”

He swallowed and Shiro’s eyes flickered down, drawn to the movement of his throat like a moth to a flame, in a way that did not go unnoticed by Lance. Those bright blue eyes, quick and clever in the air, never missed a thing on the ground, and Shiro was an open book under his hands. Lance’s lips twitched, a small, sleepy smile, teasing at the corners. He reached up, running his hands over Shiro’s chest, slow and reverent, and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“Cause then I would have missed this,” his voice was a breath across Shiro’s skin, feather light and hot. Shiro’s grip around him tightened, drawing him closer.

Another pro. The arm was steady, and with it firm around Lance’s shoulders, Shiro’s other hand was free to roam, up his side, along his neck. Free to let his fingertips trace his features, the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose. Free to let them tangle in Lance’s hair, to keep him close, to never have to let him go.

Beneath him, Lance licked his lips and Shiro dived down to chase them with his own.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> reviews feed the author.
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://ninnani.tumblr.com/)!


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